


he's an odd boy

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: FE3H Kinkmeme, Gen, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: fill for thekinkmeme promt:"Felix is the most popular on this meme, and he has a lot of a supports.Basically I just want an anthology of as many characters you’d like thirsting over him. Internal dialogues of how them ogling at the eye candy, wet dreams/masturbations, flirting attempts... all of it with Felix none the wiser."
Relationships: Blue Lions Students & Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous





	he's an odd boy

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Academy Era with canon ages. No explicit sex occurs in this fic, but please don't continue if you think it will harm you or upset you to do so!

“Where’s Felix?” Annette asks, peering around the Blue Lions classroom. 

“Where else would he be?” Sylvain scoffs just as the Prince of Faerghus enters the room in a hurry. 

“I just left the training grounds, he was finishing up.” Dimitri explains, “I’m sure he’ll only be a few more minutes, Professor.” He nods to Byleth, who waits patiently at the front of the classroom, giving a barely-there twitch of their head to Dimitri. 

“Well... let’s get started on something he doesn’t care about,” Byleth ponders for a moment, “We’ll start with lancework and then move on to Faith-” 

Felix eventually emerges while Byleth holds a spear in each hand, long-windedly explaining the difference between a Spear and a Javelin. Felix is clearly fresh from the baths - his hair is still free from its usual bun and sopping wet - and he grumbles an apology that was barely audible. Everyone in the room is looking at him, as if transfixed by his presence. Byleth waits a full ten seconds for their students’ attention to return, but it never comes. 

Byleth clears their throat, “Welcome back, Felix. If I could get everyone’s attention again, Javelins-”

It is probably the hottest day of the year so far, and Ashe is glowing with satisfaction at his newest confection: frozen popsicles. Constance’s invention - the new ice box she installed in the kitchen - is working incredibly well and is the perfect resource for combating the sweltering heat. Taking a tray and the ice cold treats, Ashe quickly makes his way to where they would be appreciated most: the training grounds. “Free” and “food” were two words that most students at Garreg Mach were eager to jump on, so it isn’t long before Ashe is nearly out of popsicles. 

“Hot day, huh Felix?” Ashe asks Felix conversationally, not even expecting much of a response. 

“It’s disgusting,” Felix grouses, swiping a hand across his forehead to wick away the sweat that had collected there. As expected, that was the most he was willing to say to Ashe. Felix has been training for hours at this point, and the afternoon sun is high and bright in the sky. His midnight hair has been absorbing the intense heat and only making him warmer as the day went on. 

“Here, I made these - they’re frozen, so it’ll help cool you down. They aren’t super sweet, I promise!” Ashe proffers the tray, and Felix stares down at it with narrowed eyes full of suspicion. Those warm eyes dart up to Ashe’s face, which is as sunny as the weather. This sours Felix’s expression further, but Felix relents, choosing a treat and taking a tentative lick. Ashe’s pulse quickens slightly, eager to hear his friend’s thoughts, but also unable to take his eyes away from the pink tongue darting out from Felix’s usually frowning mouth. The popsicle sinks in between Felix’s lips and he offers nothing but a thoughtful hum. Ashe feels a single bead of sweat roll down his back. 

“This is nice,” Felix manages to say over delicate slurping, then switches to holding the entire popsicle in his mouth while adjusting his sword belt.  _ Did the sun just get hotter? _ Ashe asks himself while trying once again to tear his eyes away from Felix’s tongue, which is now lapping up the quickly melting juice. One droplet is slowly making its way down Felix’s jaw and neck, curving then disappearing under the cover of his two uniform collars. 

“I’m glad you like it!” Ashe says, positive his face has to be a deep, ruddy red by now. Felix once again places the entire length of the treat in his mouth, so much so the tip of it has to at least hit the back of his throat. Ashe feels faint.  _ He has to be doing this on purpose,  _ he thinks, and feels the blood in his body leave his brain.

“What’s in this? Citrus?” Felix questions as he licks a stripe up his wrist, following a bead of juice. 

“Y-yeah! Uh, grapefruit - I should go!” Ashe quickly gives away the remaining popsicle, using the freed tray to hide his slightly tenting shorts from view. He makes his way back to the kitchens and tries his best to not flat-out run, face furiously scarlet.

“It must have gotten even hotter out there - are you alright?” Mercedes asks, her concern causing her to pause the vegetables she was chopping.

“I’m fine! Just need to… to get out of the sun!” Ashe stammers, returning the tray to one of the sinks. 

That evening did not get any cooler. Ashe sweat through his sheets, writhing in bed, thinking about Felix’s mouth, tongue, and lips anywhere on him, and the sweat on the nape of his neck.

At the training grounds, Dimitri stands defensively in front of Ingrid, her brand new steel lance shining in the sun. Dimitri just passed his Lord exam the previous day and, by request of the Professor, has been practicing his swordsmanship diligently. As focused as he is, Dimitri still can’t help but keep an eye on Felix as he runs through drills by himself on the other side of the grounds. 

“Eyes on me, Your Highness,” Ingrid chides, and Dimitri is able to flush spectacularly just before she disarms him with a well-timed swipe. Professor Byleth calls out praise from the sidelines and Ingrid beams. 

“While it's good to train at a disadvantage, you should also know how to cross swords with another - Ingrid, swap partners for a bit.” Byleth belts out a little louder, “Felix, you’re with Dimitri!”

Felix just snarls as a response, sauntering over with a beautifully long gait. Dimitri sends a prayer to the Goddess that his face has returned to it’s normal hue. 

“Felix,” the Prince nods, “While swordsmanship does not come naturally to me, I hope you notice a slight improvement in my skills since last time,” 

“I’m not going to notice anything if you don’t move,” Felix grumbled as a warning, then immediately lurched ahead. 

Dimitri knows he has several advantages over Felix in combat: his height, his reach, and his strength. None of this matters when he is on the receiving end of the intensity of Felix’s gaze. He almost withers under it, but with every slash of his sword Dimitri pushes harder. Perhaps to impress Felix, even a little bit. 

Dimitri falls into a rhythm and avoids eye contact with his opponent, instead finding distraction in the small huffs, pants, and grunts Felix puffs out. Heat unrelated to the exertion of crossing blades with Felix creeps up his neck and ears and Dimitri feels a sense of anxiousness to be finished the battle - he changes strategy to instead look for openings in Felix’s onslaught rather than just parrying. 

“You’re thinking too much, Boar,” Felix taunts, hissing out, “Think with your body,” 

If Dimitri understands the stirring his body correctly, he is in danger of more than being run through by a blade. He sends yet another prayer to the Goddess, this time to not become fully erect in front of his classmates and professor. A split second realization of how inappropriate it was to ask the Goddess for such a thing makes his ears burn even hotter. 

He finds his opening after a misstep in his own footwork; Felix’s mouth is tugged upward in a menacing smirk, his sword arm raised and ready to strike. Dimitri manages to fix his footing and land a punishing blow just in time to slam Felix shoulder-first onto the dirty ground. 

“Felix!” Dimitri sputters, out of breath, and drops his sword, “I’m so sorry,” the Prince’s concern won over any feelings of pride as he nears Felix’s panting form, splayed on the floor. 

“Shut up,” Felix grimaces as he sits upright and then glares at Dimitri’s abandoned sword. “Pick up your sword, Beast. Is that how you treat your lance? Abuse it and then toss it aside?” 

Dimitri is at a loss for words. Felix’s face is tinted pink from his blood pumping so quickly through his body, and Dimitri could count his breaths by watching the quick rise and fall of Felix’s chest. Felix tries to move his right arm and hisses.

“Are you alright? Your shoulder - it doesn’t look… er…” Dimitri is in no way a healer, but he could tell Felix’s shoulder looked  _ wrong. _

“Stop staring at me like a hungry animal and help me up!” Felix cradles his weakened arm against his torso, then stretches out his other hand. Dimitri wishes he wasn't wearing his gloves and watches himself lose perhaps the only chance he’d ever have to touch Felix’s skin with his own. 

“Would you like assistance getting to Manuela’s office?” Dimitri offers once Felix is upright, hovering anxiously over the wounded man.

“My legs still work, Boar,” Felix scoffs, and Dimitri makes the mistake of looking at said legs as they walk away, not to mention the ass connected to them, covered in the dirt from the training grounds floor. Dimitri apologizes internally if the Goddess is still listening. 

“Take a short recess, Dimitri,” Byleth commands with a pat on his shoulder. 

Dimitri sits to the side, cleaning his muddied blade, consumed by the thoughts of dirtying Felix’s uniform further. 

“Poor Ashe, I think he might have gotten sunburn! If you could spare a salve, I’ll take it to him.” Mercedes stands next to Manuela’s desk, fidgeting with her shawl, concerned for her friend and his face that hasn’t seemed to stop being red for a whole day, now. 

“How sweet of you, Mercedes,” Manuela tuts, shuffling around some jars in her drawer, “The sun yesterday was really something else-” 

The door suddenly bangs open, with one Felix Fraldarius thundering inside.

“Felix!” Mercedes exclaims, ready to scold him for causing such a ruckus. However, one look at his pained expression and sullied uniform tells her something is wrong. Felix only announces himself further with another graceful grunt. 

“Are you all right?” Manuela asks, making her way over to the student with a disapproving look. Felix sighs, exasperated. 

“I’m fine - it’s just my shoulder-” 

“Let me take a look, Felix.” 

One gentle touch to his shoulder, one curse, and one warning from Manuela later, Felix learns his shoulder has been dislocated. 

“Lie down on your back for me, Felix,” the professor pats the nearby cot. “Mercedes, could you stay on the other side of the cot and place your hands on Felix’s side?” 

“Sure!” Mercedes is happy to help Felix lie back as he struggles to lower himself without straining his twinging arm. Once he is horizontal, Mercedes rests her hands across Felix’s abdomen and waits for further instructions. 

“Wow, your abs are so firm,” Mercedes giggles, and she can feel Felix’s annoyed huff under her fingers. 

“What I am going to do is pull your arm until it resets itself into your shoulder socket.” Manuela states clinically, gripping Felix’s sword arm by the hand and wrist, “Try to relax. Keep no tension in your muscles. Mercedes, keep Felix still and pull him gently toward yourself, okay?” 

“Got it,” Mercedes says cheerfully, digging her hands more securely into Felix’s side. Mercedes watches diligently as Manuela carefully begins to put pressure on their patient’s arm and can hear Felix’s sharp intake of breath. Mercedes peels her eyes away from the professor for a moment, concerned about Felix’s pain. 

Felix’s eyes are squeezed shut and he has a faint blush on the tops of his cheeks - was he also sunburnt?  _ These poor Faerghus boys _ , Mercedes thinks,  _ they just can’t take the heat.  _

Mercedes can feel Felix not releasing a breath he has taken, his muscles tightening under her hands once again, “Breathe, Felix. You’re too tense.” Satisfied with a long exhale, Mercedes once again lets her eyes focus on Manuela. 

All three of them can feel when Felix’s arm returns to its socket - if not hear it through Felix’s long, far-too obscene groan right in Mercedes’ ear. Mercedes can only giggle nervously. Manuela’s hands glow with faith magic as the professor heals the inflamed tissue. 

“Does that feel better?” she asks, after Manuela releases Felix’s arm.

“I think so,” Felix mutters, twisting his reset arm around, “You can stop holding me now,” 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Mercedes gasps, snatching her hands back from his torso and retreating slightly. Felix only offers a gruff “tch” before standing and brushing a bit of dust off his uniform pants.

“Am I cleared to train?” He asks Manuela abrasively, as if daring her to tell him No. 

“Tomorrow you will be.” The professor offers, knowing the swordsman wouldn’t tolerate a full day of rest. Felix stomps out without a thank-you, and Mercedes stands in a daze, forgetting why she initially came to Manuela’s office. 

Taking a long walk from the Cathedral to the dormitory, Mercedes lets her mind wander as she enjoys the fine weather. Her thoughts start to migrate to Felix and his tight core, his gasps of pain that sounded so unintentionally lewd. She imagines what Felix would sound like tied up, unable to use his arms, needing her hands to help him-

“Oh, Goddess!” Mercedes exclaims in the center of the gardens, getting the attention of a few passersby, then turns back around and quickly shuffles toward the Cathedral again, praying the whole way. 

Annette sends a goodbye wave to Dorothea as the Black Eagle songstress leaves their choir practice. Annie had already gathered and dropped her sheet music once, only to scatter it all again, and professor Byleth has the last few sheets in their hand.

“Thanks, Professor! Have you seen Mercedes?”

“She’s been in there all morning,” Byleth blinks, pointing to the confessional booth. 

“She needs to take a break at some point - why’s she been in there so long?” Annette balks, wanting to pull her friend out of the booth herself. 

“She said she’s repenting.” Byleth offers, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. 

“Huh,” Annette frowns, “Well, don’t let her skip lunch, Professor!”

Byleth gives their student a tiny smile and nod. 

Annette practically skips toward the Blue Lions classroom, music from choir practice still ringing through her thoughts. She rounds a corner to check the bulletin board but is met with a solid form and fur.

“Ahhh!” Annette screams, off balance, and a strong arm holds her steady. Once again, her sheet music is pitched into the air. Her rescuer is none other than Felix, holding her up with one arm, and a grouchy monastery cat in the other, “Felix!” 

Once Annette is right side up again, Felix asks, “Are you okay?” at the same time Annette asks, “Is the cat okay?” 

This makes Felix laugh, which Annette has never seen or heard before. Something in the sound is melodic and she is instantly entranced. 

“Wow Felix, I’ve never heard you laugh like that before,” Annette grins, hoping to pull another laugh from her normally cold friend. 

“Tch,” Felix looks away, grumbling, absently petting the yawning cat, “You just caught me in a good mood,” 

“Is it because of this little guy?” Annette tentatively reaches out a hand to also pet the cat, and is met with a glare that matches that of Felix Fraldarius. Annie moves an inch closer, undeterred, and scratches under the cat’s chin. “Aw. Is he your friend, Felix?” 

“...Maybe,” Felix indelicately places cat in her arms then immediately assumes a more threatening tone, “If you tell anyone about this, just know I have the lyrics to three of your songs memorized and ready as ammunition,” 

“Felix!” Annette gasps, red-faced, clutching the now-purring cat to her chest, “You scoundrel!” 

“Bye, Annie,” Felix turns the corner with a smirk, devilishly. 

Annette stands in front of the bulletin board with arms full of cat, her thoughts reeling.  _ First a laugh, a smile, then… that smirk?  _

Annette flinches when she remembers what time it is and gently places the furball on the ground, says goodbye to it, and dashes to the Golden Deer classroom for a lecture from Hanneman she was nearly late for. Settling into a seat toward the back, Annie prepared her note papers and quill - she managed to write down the first two sentences the professor said before getting lost in distraction. 

Her thoughts turned to daydreaming, Hanneman’s voice completely lost to her visions. Her dream Felix is rescuing her from danger, smiling and laughing. This dream Felix is listening to her sing, enamored with her. Annette hears him say her name, over and over, and imagines him kissing her. 

“Annie.” 

Annette sighs wistfully, the fantasy so real she can practically-

“Annie!” this time she snaps to, only to see Ignatz in front of her.

“Ignatz?” Annette asks hazily, “What’s going on?”

“The lecture is over, um,” the small boy looks a bit embarrassed, “Everyone else left.”

Annette groans, shamefaced, and buries head in her arms, note pages completely empty. 

“Annette!” Sylvain calls across the classroom before everyone disperses after the lesson.

“Oh, hey Sylvain!” Annie greets, looking a bit less peppy than usual.

“Could I borrow your notes from Hanneman’s lecture? I couldn’t make it but I think it would help me with my Mage exam coming up.” Sylvain explains hopefully. 

“Uh,” Annette looks lost in thought for a second, then blurts out, “I’m sorry Sylvain, I didn’t write anything down. I was… uh… not feeling well yesterday,” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Sylvain waves off the apology, “Are you feeling okay now?” 

“I’m fine! You should ask Linhardt, he was there and awake for about half the lesson,” the girl laughs. 

“Will do, thanks Annie!” 

Sylvain barely knows Linhardt, but knows at least two places around the monastery he would be. After checking the docks and then the library with no luck, Sylvain considers checking the dining hall. With no sign of the sleepy mage, he gives up on his search and instead heads to his dorm to try to at least refresh himself on Reason before the exam. When he makes it to the top floor, Felix is stalking down the hallway. It’s very fucked up that a person can look so dangerous from behind, thinks Sylvain. His eyes scan Felix’s back for any possible hint to his mood and get caught on the little belt wrapped around his thigh - what the fuck is that even there for? 

“Hey, Felix,” Sylvain greets his friend jovially. Felix glares mutely. “You got a minute? Or several?” 

The crease between Felix’s eyebrows deepens, “Why.” 

“I really wanna pass this Mage exam but I’m definitely not up to snuff yet - think you could help me out a little?” Sylvain knows, deep in his soul, that puppy-dog eyes do not work on Felix. He flashes them anyway. 

“ _ You’re _ studying?” Felix asks incredulously while leaning against the wall outside his room, one hip cocked out. Sylvain once again gets pulled like a magnet to Felix’s weird thigh belt. What could its purpose  _ be _ ? 

“I’m gonna try,” Sylvain smirks, then adds sincerely, “I really could use some help. You’re way better at Reason than me,” 

“Tch,” Felix scoffs, pushing off the wall and strolling into Sylvain’s room, “You owe me at least two hours of sparring tomorrow,” 

“ _ Two hours? _ ” Felix reclines on Sylvain’s bed, one knee up, the belt flexing around his powerful leg, “Okay, yes. Anything.” which Sylvain means in more than one way.

Felix drones on about theory and shows off a Thunder spell in tiny bursts. He corrects Sylvain’s tedious notes and gives him a few tips for the exam Felix had already passed earlier this month. The whole time Felix is speaking, Sylvain can feel his mouth drying up. Sylvain keeps looking at Felix’s very slight sliver of neck exposed under his collars, his stupid thigh belt, his slight smirk of satisfaction of being ten times better at Reason than Sylvain. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sylvain blurts out by accident. He thinks distantly about being muzzled by the fucking belt. 

“Maybe,” Felix says tentatively, curiosity on his face. 

“What’s that belt on your leg for?” Sylvain asks in one rushed breath. Felix’s face goes from mild interest to annoyance in a flash of Thunder. 

“I’m leaving,” He states, stomping to the door and swinging it open. 

“Feliiiix!” Sylvain whines, scrabbling to his feet to stand at door frame, looming over his friend.

“I’ll show you tomorrow, when we spar. What this is for,” Felix thumbs the belt, glaring at Sylvain. Even though Sylvain has the height advantage, it feels as though Felix is looking down his nose at him. The message is vaguely threatening, but it goes right to Sylvain’s dick. Felix is already in his own room with the door locked and Sylvain is rooted to the spot, standing idle and dazed. 

With another dry swallow of his throat, Sylvain closes and locks his door. He whips his belt out from his uniform pants, dropping the trousers and smalls to the floor, then flops onto his bed with the belt in his hands. Desperately hard and unsure what parts of  _ Felix  _ and  _ belt  _ and  _ Felix’s smirk _ can be integrated into his merciless beating of his cock, Sylvain bites down on the fabric of his own belt. He can smell and taste the earthy leather and feel the texture of the material in his mouth. It's shameful how quickly he tumbles over the edge of an orgasm, panting and sullied, grateful the belt at least muffled his groans.

After washing away his embarrassment in his water basin, Sylvain dresses for bed and ponders what Felix said to him.  _ Does he just not know how that sounds? Does he not know what he looks like?  _ Sylvain feels as though he is just a lapdog, hungry for any scraps Felix will give him.

The next morning, Felix is the first student at the training grounds, followed later by the rest of the Blue Lions class. Felix was promised two solid hours of training against Sylvain and his lance, and he runs a few drills to warm up, slowly losing patience for his friend to show the fuck up. 

Felix sheaths his sword, touching the two daggers that now rest on his thigh within the belt tightened there. He hears some tittering - all morning so far, his classmates keep looking his way and then quickly avoiding his eye. Normally he’s fine with not making eye contact with people, but this is definitely abnormal. 

Before he can confront the Boar who looks so guilty it's making Felix uncomfortable, Sylvain meanders in merrily, offering greetings to everyone. Immediately his face drops when he looks at Felix, then down to his daggers, then back up to Felix’s face. He whines. Loudly.

“ _ What? _ ” Felix hisses. 

“ _ That’s _ what it’s for? More blades?” Sylvain looks... disappointed? His expression was a cross between his stupid pitiful puppy eyes and pink embarassment. 

“What else would it be for?” Felix hears Mercedes’ breathy giggle and looks over to see Annette whispering to her, very clearly looking at him. He assumes they’re making a joke at his expense, and he wills himself from getting more annoyed as he grumbles to Sylvain, “It's good to be prepared in case you’re disarmed…” 

Sylvain just laughs and offers a small tap on the arm, “Alright, I’ll disarm you so you can get some use out of your little daggers,” 

“Like hell you will,” Felix growls, unsheathing his blade. Ashe sighs wistfully from the sidelines.  _ What the fuck is with the peanut gallery today?  _ Felix brushes them off, clearing his mind to focus on sparring. “What took you so long, anyway?” 

“A growing boy needs his breakfast, Felix!” Sylvain explains as he rifles through the training lances for his favorite one.

“Your morning would have been better spent grinding down your lance, Sylvain,” he taunts, flicking the clearly dulled blade. Sylvain lets out a desperate wheeze, looking away from him entirely. 

“Felix,” Byleth calls out, “Didn’t you say you wanted to practice two versus one?” 

Felix’s face lights up. 

“Dimitri,” Byleth holds their hand out toward Sylvain and Felix. 

“Professor, I don’t know if-” the Beast stammers, immediately sweating bullets and pink in the face.  _ Tch. Not ready for a rematch, huh? _

“Afraid you can’t take me, Boar?” Felix drawls, stretching his arms and legs in preparation. Ashe covers his face. “A three-way should be easy for a beast,” 

“Felix,” Sylvain begs, Mercedes giggles again and then whispers something to Ingrid, who goes very pale. “Please don’t say things like that.” 

“Like what?” Felix huffs, frustrated that he seems to be getting everyone’s undivided attention and not a single fight yet. He hates when people look at him, and now people are looking  _ and _ whispering? 

“Professor, I really think someone else should- ah- maybe Dedue?” Dimitri clears his throat, looking hopefully at his vassal.

“If Your Highness wishes it, of course. But I would rather not get involved in…  _ this _ .” Dedue gestures blandly, looking bored and especially uninterested in Felix. Felix has never respected the man more. 

“It’s fine, I’ll do it,” Byleth nods, shooing Dimitri away, “Sylvain, will you tag team Felix with me?” 

“Wh-” Sylvain chokes on his words while wringing his lance. 

“One partner is barely enough to satisfy me anymore. Let’s do it,” Felix states, utterly serious. A lance snaps in half. Annette shrieks from the sidelines, being held upright by Ingrid, who has also become an unflattering shade of red. 

“Oh goddess,” Dimitri winces. Mercedes nods and begins praying. 

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” huffs Felix. “Why are you all acting so weird?” 

A hushed silence overcomes the Blue Lions as Felix awaits an answer, arms crossed. 

“Felix,” Byleth places a hand tenderly on his shoulder, “Everyone is just… really intimidated by you. You’re _ so strong _ .” They bite their lower lip, a ghost of a smile in their eyes. 

Felix believes them. 

“Is that true?” Felix asks quietly, searching for confirmation in the eyes of his closest friends. 

“Oh yeah, Felix, definitely,” Mercedes says behind her hand, softly.

“Yeah Felix you’re so scary!” Annette chirps, and Felix feels his aggravation siphon away. 

“Tch,” Felix scoffs, “Well. I’m only getting strong to protect you, so...” He trails off, turning his back on his classmates, flushed with embarrassment and kicking the dirt on the floor. 

“Alright, Sylvain, Felix? Let’s fight now,” Byleth offers gently, sending a wink to the students on the sidelines. 

Later, after pinning Felix to the ground and sending him ahead of the rest of the Lions to clean up, Byleth stands in front of their students, gravely serious.

“We can never tell him,” they say carefully, “Keep this with you to your grave.” 

The Blue Lions nod sagely. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [So Sexy (It Hurts)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737303) by [bernard_greybridge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bernard_greybridge/pseuds/bernard_greybridge)




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